Urgently Required: A Husband!
Mum, you really need to find yourself a new husband! And its an absolute emergency!
Eleanor almost dropped her cup of tea, splashing a bit onto the tablecloth. She set it down, cleared her throat, and fixed her daughter with a look.
Would you care to explain why? she asked, striving for a steady, measured tone. Whats brought this on?
Maggie shuffled from one foot to the other, lowering her eyes to the carpet, where she began tracing patterns with her shoe. She looked uncomfortable, but there was a firm determination in her stance.
Well today I told Dad youve met someone, she sighed heavily. He just wouldnt leave me alone! Constantly grilling me about whether you were seeing anyone. I kept saying no and then hed launch into these endless monologues about how youd made the biggest mistake of your life by leaving him. That you clearly didnt know what you were doingletting go of such a wonderful man!
She gazed up at her mum, her eyes full of a mix of annoyance, confusion, and a rather glaring frustration directed at her father.
And he keeps saying youll soon realise your mistake and come crawling back. That theres just no way youll find anyone better than him. So I kind of snapped. I said you had met someone.
Eleanor ran a hand over her hair. Instantly, the familiar tones of her ex-husband Nigel came to mindpretend confidence, that way of morphing every conversation into a soliloquy about his own brilliance.
I can only imagine the colourful language he accompanied it with, she said dryly. Still hasnt accepted hes not the catch of the year. Sometimes I think Nigel only wants you for the weekend visits so he can deliver his latest lectures. Doesnt care about youjust wants the freshest gossip for his ego.
Maggie let out a sigh and flopped onto the sofa, pulling her legs under her like usual. With her head propped on a cushion, she idly petted the upholstery, trying to gather her thoughts.
Yeah, I think so too, she muttered, eyes drifting to the wall. Ninety minutes telling me how extraordinary he is. And the rest of the time, he barely registers Im even there. He never asks how schools going, or whether I need anything
She spoke with the same flat tone as if she were listing her daily routine: get up, breakfast, school, homework. For Maggie, it really had become that mundanenothing worth wasting emotions over.
She stared at the ceiling, replaying the most recent exchange with her dad. As usual, hed started off bragging about his latest achievementthis time, some masterful business negotiation. Then onto his plans, work struggles, and how everyone at the office underestimates his true genius. One and a half hours of nonstop self-adulationMaggie had even kept track of the time so she could tell her mum afterward.
And when she tried to mention coming third in the regional maths competition, he nodded absent-mindedly and then immediately swung the topic back to himself. Good for you, love, but at your age, Id already and off he went again with tales of his own glory days.
Maggie shrugged faintly, keen to brush away the memory. Shed come to accept this way of things a long time ago. However far she could remember, Dads world had revolved exclusively around himself, with everyone else existing somewhere far out in the edge of his orbitimportant, yes, but never important enough to distract from the main attraction: Nigel.
Every conversation circled inevitably back to his problems, his worries, his drama. If Mum mentioned she was exhausted, hed start up about his own workplace sufferings. If Maggie spoke about falling out with friends, Dad would launch into gripping stories from his own schooldaysnaturally, much more exciting than anything his daughter had endured. Other peoples troubles seemed not to register, or at best to warrant passing sympathy.
One thing Maggie just couldnt figure out was how her mum had put up with fifteen years of this. The man was utterly mesmerised by the sound of his own voice! Maybe Mum only stayed for her sake, not wanting her to grow up without a father around. When she was little, Maggie honestly believed her dad would snap out of it, start noticing them and taking an interest in their lives But the years ticked by and nothing changed. Only after the divorce did Maggie realise, with a surprising sense of relief, how much calmer life was without him dominating the householdnobody hogging all the attention and acting as if everyone elses concerns were trivial.
So, why does this mean I suddenly must rush out and find myself a man? Eleanors voice was just a bit sharper than intended. Its just words, darling whats the big deal?
You dont get itDad absolutely lost it! Maggie grimaced, hugging a sofa cushion to her chest. He went sheet-white, then beet-red, and started yelling like someone had pinched his credit cardso loud the neighbour poked her head in! Honestly, he was almost frightening.
She paused, watching the scene replay in her mind. Dads voice, unfamiliar and cracking with emotion, his fists clenching and unclenching, his eyes darting around the roomhe seemed about to explode from sheer outrage.
He wanted a full descriptionthe blokes name, job, what car he drives, the lot, continued Maggie, fiddling with the cushion seam. I refused. Said you made me promise not to tell him anything. I wouldnt be shocked if he phones you up soon, though, ready to give you an earful.
Eleanor turned slowly, leaning against the window ledge, and regarded her daughter with a rather gloomy interest. Terrific, she thought inwardlyjust what I needed for a quiet day. She could already picture Nigels melodrama Thanks, Maggiemuch appreciated.
She sank onto the sofa beside her daughter, giving her a tight squeeze. Well, whats done is done. No putting the toothpaste back in the tube now.
Why did you say that anyway? she asked quietly, rocking Maggie ever so slightly. We were managing just fine. Now well have him ringing up, ranting or whinging. Tempting to unplug the phone, isnt it?
Maggie wriggled free and sat up straight, fixing her mother with a surprisingly grown-up stare. Her gaze radiated absolute conviction.
Because youre brilliant! she declared. Youre smart, attractive, loads of friends, and men are always interested in you! You dont think I notice? Meanwhile, Dad never tires of saying terrible things about you. Im sick of it!
Eleanor ran her fingers gently through her daughters hair, watching the sunlight glint off the strands. She was both touched and slightly perplexed.
I understand, love. I really do, she said softly. Honestly, I thought you wouldnt want me dating yet. Its only been six months since your dad and I split up.
It wasnt easy to say this out loud. Somewhere deep down, Eleanor had been afraid that a new relationship would seem like betrayal, like trying to replace Maggies father. She studied her daughters face for any signs of unease.
Nonsense! Maggie huffed, voice positively crackling with sincerity. Eleanor couldnt help a smile. I just want you to be happy!
Hands folded in her lap, Maggie beamed up at her mum. In that moment, she looked so old for her agethoughtful, ready to fight for her beliefs.
Eleanor stared gently back, feeling months of anxiety begin to melt in the warmth between them. Maybe she had spent too long looking backwards, too scared to look forward.
Youre a star, she whispered, pulling Maggie back into her arms. Thank you for caring about me so much.
Maggie nestled in, content. For both of them, the flat felt cosier and safera tiny, resilient family, growing stronger every day.
**************************
A bit later, Eleanor sat at her work desk, valiantly trying to concentrate on a spreadsheet. The numbers wobbled on the screen and a dull headache thudded in her temples, multiplying by lunchtime into what felt like a minor hangover. With a sigh, she massaged her foreheadslow, repetitive, almost robotic movements.
After some thought, Eleanor caved in and asked a colleague to nip to Boots around the corner for some paracetamol. Once the painkillers were down, she struggled to focus on paperwork. Hopeless. Her head throbbed with every tap of a keyboard, every hum of the air conditioning, every distant giggle from the corridor.
Just then, a security guard poked his head into the office, polite but wary.
Excuse me, Ms. Sinclairtheres someone downstairs to see you. Your ex-husband. Hes demanding a meeting. Will you come down, or shall we ask him to leave?
Eleanor froze. Irritation, laced with exhaustion, surged within her. She took a deep breath, fighting for composure.
Ill be right down. Sorry for the fuss, she replied, standing up.
Silently, she cursed her luck. Of all the times for Nigel to pay a surprise visit! She was already under siege at work, battling a headacheand now this parade. Could he really not pick up the phone? Did he want to stage a dramatic performance in her workplace, with spectators?
She made her way to the lift at a measured pace. Racing wasnt an option; her skull might shatter. The corridor was a swirl of activity: people bustling about, someone gossiping over the kettle, another group peering at sticky notes by the meeting room. As Eleanor passed, the tightness in her shoulders wound itself ever tighter.
Entering the main foyer, she spotted Nigel instantly. He was pacing, gesticulating so wildly she half-expected him to go into the full Basil Fawlty. One moment he advanced on reception, the next he retreated with theatrical disgust. He was loudly arguing with the guards, his voice rising and falling. The guards were doing their professional best to look both helpful and completely fed-up.
What do you want? Eleanor asked without preamble, her tone calm if only by force of will. Whats with the performance? Do you want to meet the local constables? I can arrange that.
Nigel spun round at her voice, face ruddy, eyes alight with some cocktail of anger and determinationlike a man whod just discovered the last biscuit was voucher-only. He jabbed a finger at her, as though shed been caught stealing the crown jewels.
You! YOU! Maggie told me everything! Its only been six months and youve already shacked up with some bloke?
His voice wobbled between disbelief, wounded pride and classic middle-aged jealousy. Through Eleanors stone-calm reply, the whole thing seemed rather theatrical.
And am I meant to be true to you for life? she replied, tone cool and collected. Even after a divorce? Youre asking rather a lot, particularly considering marital fidelity wasnt exactly your strong suit.
Nigel froze, caught mid-rant, hand hovering in mid-air. Something close to bewilderment flickered in his eyes. The comeback had evidently not been in his script.
People continued to walk bystaff, couriers, even the cleaning lady sneaked an admiring glance at the commotion. But for Nigel and Eleanor, the whole world seemed to have shrunk to this ridiculous little stage between them, filled with old grievances and the uncomfortable stench of reality.
You you just he spluttered, but Eleanor cut him off.
Lets not do this, Nigel, her voice was somehow gentler but no less firm. If you want to talk, lets talk properly. But not here. Not like this.
Not do this? Ill show you a scene if you want a scene!
Nigel was red-faced now, practically barking, veins straining in his neck, hands balling and unballing. One step forward, two back, like an agitated sheepdog.
I wont have my daughter living under the same roof as a strange man! he yelled, oblivious to his growing audience. Ill take Maggie off you! Youll never see her again! You
Eleanor arched an eyebrow, wearing the kind of faintly bored look reserved for toddlers in full tantrum mode. Take her daughter? Shed love to see him manage that. Any family court in the land would chew him up and spit him out.
Are you through? Such a performeryou should run off and join the circus, she commented, dry as a martini.
Whats going on here?
Nigel stopped mid-harangue and whipped around. At the doorway stood a man in a perfectly tailored navy suit, strolling in with the kind of nonchalance reserved for men with serious shares in the company. The security guards instantly tensedclearly someone of consequence.
None of your business! snarled Nigel, eyes flashing. This is a private matter.
The newcomer didnt bother with a retort. He approached, halting at a polite distance, eyebrows raised not in surprise but in mild amusement. The very picture of English composure, and it was winding Nigel up even more.
A private matter, said the man, is something you conduct privately. When you start a melodrama in the middle of reception, it becomes everyones problem.
Eleanor watched the scene unfold, tension humming on the air. She hadnt expected Jonathan Douglas, the company director, to show up, but his intervention was oddly welcome. At the very least, it deflated Nigels sails.
Nigel moved towards him, sizing up for a snide remark. But Jonathan didnt so much as blink.
And you are? Nigel demanded, all bravado and precious little dignity.
With a measured step, Jonathan moved to Eleanors side and, without a hint of awkwardness, slipped an arm around her waist. It was perfectly performed, leaving Nigels imagination little room to manoeuvre.
Who am I? Jonathan replied, voice cool and unhurried but radiating such certainty that Nigel visibly shrunk by an inch. Im the one making Eleanor happy. Shouting at a woman I care for isnt something Ill let slide. If youre angling for a chat with the constabulary, it can be arrangedbut Id suggest you rethink using your daughter as a pawn. Understood?
Nigel froze. His face, so recently tomato-red, now shaded towards milk-bottle white. He flicked his gaze between Eleanor and Jonathan, clearly aware the ground had shifted underneath him. He looked as though hed come for a duel and found himself at a garden party with all the cutlery locked away.
He hesitated, opened his mouth, clenched and unclenched his fists, but for once found himself speechless. The directors iron assurance had totally wrongfooted him. Either that or he realised hed lost his captive audience.
Finally, he muttered something along the lines of, Well, you wont get a penny in maintenance, thats for sure! and stormed for the exit.
Well, thats lucky, Eleanor sniffed, just loud enough for passers-by to catch a hint of sarcasm. At least Maggie wont have to listen to his Saturday soliloquies any more.
It was only then that she noticed Jonathans arm was still resting reassuringly on her waist. The touchso calm and deliberatesent colour rising to her cheeks, and she gently slipped away, trying not to make it awkward.
With a faint, embarrassed smile, she turned to her unlikely champion.
Thank you, Jonathan. You have no idea how much you helped me.
The warmth in her gratitude was unmistakable. In this moment, she was profoundly gratefulnot just for the rescue, but for the way he achieved it: calm, kind, self-assured.
Jonathans lips twitched up in a smile; his eyes melted just a fraction.
Shall we talk it over at lunch? he offered, hand out in invitation.
Eleanor paused for a brief internal debatea holdover from months of caution. Was it too soon, too inappropriate? Did it make her look desperate? But Jonathan had been nothing but respectful, and truthfully, she wanted to say yes.
Besides, there was a flicker of curiosity: who was he outside the suit and the directorship? What drove him to step in?
Id like that, she replied, slipping her hand into his.
His grip was reassuringsteady but not possessive. She could sense the knots of anxiety beginning to unravel at last, replaced by a flutter of excitement.
Later, over warm scones and gentle chatter in a cosy little restaurant nearby, Eleanor found herself at ease. The low lamp light, soft clink of teaspoons, and the comforting aroma of fresh bread all conspired to ease her mood.
Somewhere between bites, Jonathan confessed, a little sheepishly, hed harboured feelings for her for some time. He said it offhand, like the weather, but with that matter-of-fact honesty that makes it all the more touching.
I never quite had the nerve to say anything, he stirred his tea. You always seemed so focused, so busy. I didnt want to be pushy, especially after the split.
Eleanor listened, not interrupting. There was no swagger or boast in his voicejust open warmth and respect for her boundaries.
And when I saw that man giving you grief today Jonathan frowned. Well, there was no way I could just stand by.
Eleanor couldnt help but smile. So thats what those glances meant! Shed always liked Jonathan in a quiet way, but had assumed her place in the company and his seniority made things hopelessly complicated.
*******************
Three months after the great office drama, Eleanor and Jonathan were married in classic English style. The wedding was gorgeous: Jonathan left no box unticked, no dream unfulfilled.
Maggie was genuinely thrilled for her mum. On the day, she almost acted as chief of staffchecking every detail from hair to hemlines. When the newlyweds exchanged rings, she beamed and hugged them both fiercely.
Im so happy for you, she whispered, and her smile made it clear she meant every word.
She had, however, made her position clear early on about the Dad issue.
I like you, Jonathan, she said one of their first evenings, as the three of them slouched on the sofa. And Im really glad Mums not alone anymore. But my dad well, Ive got one of those already.
Jonathan nodded, with a gentle smile and no hint of disappointment.
I completely understand, Maggie. Thats as it should be. As long as were all together, thats what matters.
Even Nigel was not forgottena wedding invitation found its way to his letterbox, if only as a slightly barbed formality. Eleanor hesitated, but figured he deserved to know she wasnt sitting at home pining away. The card went out: no grand note, just the details in gold script.
Naturally, Nigel didnt show up. The mere thought of it made him somewhere between incensed and faintly wounded. Instead, he switched tactics and began cold-calling old friends and acquaintances.
The first call was barely an hour after the invite came through. Can you believe shes invited me to her wedding? he barked down the line before the other party could even say hello. After everything I did for her!
A bemused university mate tried to extract specific outrage from the story, but Nigel waved the question away.
How dare she? Honestly, how could she? Utter humiliation
This scene repeated dailyNigel working the phones for sympathy. Each conversation started with his signature phrase, delivered with mounting melodrama. He seemed hungry for someoneanyoneto say, Terrible, absolutely terrible!
But the friends mostly played along politely. Some mumbled agreement, some made neutral noises about life moving on, and some just listened in awkward silence. The more Nigel repeated himself, the less convincing his outrage began to sound.
He switched tack: Its only been six months! Is that even enough time for real love? Shes obviously just trying to forget me. Clearly a reboundcant blame her, I suppose.
Then, suddenly, the angle changed again:
She never gave me a chance! If wed only talked I could have fixed everything!
Even he didn’t specify how he would have worked this miracle become a new man, pleaded for forgiveness, rediscovered his passion for gardening?
Sometimes he fell back on plain old bitterness:
All I did for her, and not even a thank you. She just upped and left. Took Maggie with her, too!
These gripes about gratitude had even less resonance. Friends exchanged glances, shrugged, or offered careful responses:
But you were married. Thats just life, isnt it?
Nigel would fall silent, feeling the indignation sputter and fizzle. Nobody was calling Eleanor names. Nobody suggested she was heartless. Almost everyone seemed to think she had every right to move on, which only annoyed him more.
Eventually, worn out by his own theatrics, Nigel stopped ringing round. He sat alone in his flat, staring at Eleanors abandoned hairpin on the dresser, an old holiday snap in the wardrobe, a couple of outgrown dresses, and realisedlife does move on. Just not for him, not yet.
Meanwhile Eleanor, Jonathan and Maggie marched on with theirsa steady, peaceful life full of the small joys of evening suppers, weekend strolls, and lively debates over which film to watch next. And somewhere in all that normal, comforting muddle, they discovered real contentmenta family, just as it should be, with absolutely no urgent vacancies for a husband in sight.
